


Extra Feature from Life Will Find a Way: Bucky's Letter to Steve

by JoCarthage



Series: Life Will Find Away + Extra Features and Outtakes [2]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Love Letters, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Rogers as the Winter Soldier, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-30
Updated: 2014-08-30
Packaged: 2018-02-15 08:27:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2222310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoCarthage/pseuds/JoCarthage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the letter Bucky wrote to Steve in Life Will Find a Way: http://archiveofourown.org/works/2222274. All tags from there carry over here.</p><p>Pen breaks through paper in a number of places. The bottom is stained with bourbon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Extra Feature from Life Will Find a Way: Bucky's Letter to Steve

Dear Steve,

I woke up today and couldn’t believe you were gone. I don’t know what to tell people about us. I wish I could just talk about it. You fought harder than 10 of any other guy, and, you know what? I'm just saying it. I'm burning this later. You had these little wiry muscles. I used to love exploring with you, seeing how you’d grown and changed. We were changing so much—any bit of food, any new bit of exercise, we would grow or stoop.

And then I missed you. I got called away to the war, and I slept in rooms full of men, and was alone entirely. I couldn’t even write you the way I wanted to, not when they were checking the mail. It was all ‘buck up for me, and hope to see you on the front lines’ bullcrap.

And then you are there, where they’d had me, hurt me, experimented on me. And you were huge, just massive. And you made this joke, but as soon as we were safe and out of the base and walking, I forced you to tell me how you’d changed so much. I could barely stand, and you were tying to carry me without making it obvious what you were doing.

And I was so angry. So pissed you’d let yourself get injected with some Jerry concoction, some super serum that you had no idea how it would affect you. I could have wrung your scrawny neck, but I couldn’t walk very well, or breath very well, and you just looked so glad to see me, so I held off.

Remember when I tried to get drunk at the base, once we got back? I thought it would help with the, you know, the dreams. That was the first time I felt well enough to think about what they’d done to you, and what had happened to me. I think something close to each other’s trauma happened to each of us, not that we could talk about it. That’s what they call it today, “trauma.”

You found me, drinking to get out of my mind, but not able to get drunk. Still figuring that out by trial and error really, but not giving up. I just needed to not be there, be in that burnt out pub, if only for a few minutes.

You came up behind me, not that anyone else dared to approach me from out of my line of sight. And I can still feel it. You put your arms around me, and buried your head in my shoulder, like I was there to hold you up, like you were the one who needed support. And you breathed into me, and your body touched mine, and I stared to feel my jagged edges. I tried to get away, not trying too hard, but wanting to keep you safe form all my razored bits, but I couldn’t. You wouldn’t let me. Not that you held me down, just, you followed me as I walked around, and as soon as I went still, you rested a hand on my shoulder, or put your feet on mine. Just following me around this fucked up bar, keeping me company. I shouted at you to leave me alone, and you went to sit on the other side of the bar. You must have been so pissed. And then, I could see you. You weren’t this thing following me around and making me feel guilty, you were my, my blond boy, my friend, my Steve. I knew then I had a responsibility.

So I made it over to you, staggering from the feeling. I got in your lap and just started learning you again. Like a baby learns the world for the first time. I kissed your suddenly massive hands, tasting your fingers into my mouth, I kissed along your neck, and across your face.

I knew your shapes from before, when you were small. And since you still wanted me, I needed to learn them again. And your hands were on my back and your hair getting all sooty from the burnt wall. And I knew I could touch you, and I did. Because you were mine, no matter the body.

Like a million deaths had never come between us.

God, Steve, I wish you were here.

I’ll never stop needing you.

Love,

Bucky


End file.
